Blackrain Euphony
by Wolf-of-Hope
Summary: Her name is Morgaine Blackrain, violinist and killer, and she is the servant of Master Knives, the 'female Legato' if you will. I wanted to try something new, and here it is. Dark, somewhat sexual, and later bloody.
1. Blackrain and Master

**This is a strange fic for me, as well as just a sort of quick li'l plot. I've never really thought of taking my story down this sorta path before, until I started reading some of the 'R' rated fanfics and got some ideas. This is about a woman who is sort of the female Legato, not physically but mentally and psychologically, a pet of the Master Knives, and it was somewhat inspired by this one story I heard, trying to explain the relationship between Knives and Legato, I think it was called "Cruelty and the Beast".**

**To those die-hard Trigun lovers out there, who get mad when they see an episode or two copied down into a fic and warped to the writer's ways, well, screw you :) I'm warpin' this the way I wanna, and if you got problems, sue me!**

**((No, don't sue me really, I'm as broke as hell, honest...))**

**This is actually quite a bit more serious than my other fics, so I want to hear some praise or criticism to know what I'm doing right or wrong. ((Not like I'd listen anyways, but, hey, what the hell, if it floats your boat...lol))**

**Everyone knows the rules about disclaimers and all, but I do own MY characters, though if you want to take something from this just tell me. I'll listen, I promise...((crosses fingers))**

**Anyways, read and review!**

**((Oh, anyways, I switch off on different POV's with little ---- lines, since FanFiction won't let me do underbar lines to cut off different parts (evil!). But if it says something between it, like ---flashback--- or such, well, then it's a flashback or such. So, I just wanted to tell ya in case it got too confusing.))  
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_**Let me make your mind**__**  
Leave yourself behind**__**  
...Be Not Afraid**_

_**---**_

She dangled from the chains around her wrists, against the wall, as the metal instrument sliced through her bare flesh. She wanted to cry out, make the agony stop, but knew that if she did, he would only make it worse.

The carving stopped, but the pain still throbbed. "Do you know why I'm doing this?" That cold, chilling voice said an inch away from her ear, as a hand touched her lips almost teasingly.

"Because I have displeased you," she answered in a trembling, weary voice.

"And why is that?" The voice came again. She shuddered.

"Because I am imperfect."

"Yes," he said, and the slicing pain came again, carving along her bare chest, across her stomach, cutting above her navel deep enough to make her gasp. She heard him, her Master, laugh, a cold, cynical sound, and felt his lips caress her mouth, his tongue touching her delicately. It might've been intimate with any other person, but not with Millions Knives, Master. One of _His _power couldn't, _wouldn't _ever be intimate with the likes of her. But how she craved it, wanted more. _More, _she thought, then regretted it. He pulled away, and the metal slicer punctured her flesh, digging deep enough to scrape her ribs.

"Your kind, such weak and vile spiders, caring not for anyone else but themselves. Why do I even keep you with me?" At those last words the cutting lightened considerably, but traced across her stomach in a manner that was delicate but could become threatening.

"To serve you, Master," she answered, her voice monotone from bearing the pain.

"And why do I keep you to serve me?"

She didn't understand the question, and her confusion must've flashed in her dark blue, almost black eyes, for the Plant's face suddenly twisted with anger, and the slicer gouged into her stomach. She choked out a gasp, and wanted to scream, but she had suffered through this enough times in her ten years under his service to understand that to scream was to invite another round of pain. Her head drooped, and her eyes closed. She didn't want to bear this anymore, but her Master was right. She was imperfect, and so she was suffering.

"Look at me, Morgaine," he said, and before she could raise her head herself, his hands grasped her jawbone tightly, raising her face to look into his. Very rarely could she stare into those icy blue depths, but she was so tired and in such pain that she didn't have the energy to feel that flash of nervous self-consciousness that one got when looking into the eyes of one's better. As if reading that in her face, his grip loosened, and he smiled, almost sweetly, almost serenely. He kissed her lips again, his tongue entering her mouth and searching every crevice, and she held deathly still, not even breathing, afraid to invoke Master's wrath at such a fragile moment. Eventually he drew back, and his hand dropped from her face. The pain didn't start again, and she sighed in relief, allowing the pain to wash over her and her mind to go black.  
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**I hope you like the first chappie. I just wanted to try this from a bit more of a "sensual" point of view. And I also wanted to do something with my god, Knives, in it :)**

**Next chapter is coming soon!**

**-Wolf**


	2. Death Refrain

**Here's the second chapter: read and enjoy. ((I command you! Muahaha!))  
I don't know how you like this, but I would like to know, so, if you read and review, I'll give you cookies! And your pick of one Trigun character...((Points to wall, where entire cast hangs from chains)) Ta-da!  
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_**I've got nothing, to gain, to lose**__**  
All the world I see before me**__**  
Passing by...**_

_**-----**_

Morgaine Blackrain had been twelve years old when she had first met Knives, standing on the roof of her house and playing out with her fiddle and bow, having been an exceptional fiddler even that early. He had come, with the blue-haired amber-eyed Legato Bluesummers at his side, and had taken the child with him after promises of being able to eliminate the world of people like her brother, the one she had ran away from to pursue her dream of fame with her music. She had found out later that, by eliminating those people, he meant to eliminate the whole human race.

_"Kill the spiders to save the butterflies."_

Through painful training and "lessons" from Knives the once fiery, determined girl turned into a loyal, obedient, individuality-less woman, only coming back to her old personality trait of a quick temper and a hot-head when she was out on missions for her new Master. A few days earlier, Knives had sent out his most loyal servant, Legato, to take care of Vash the Stampede. Morgaine found out later that by "taking care of" the Master's twin brother, Legato was killed by Vash, to cause eternal suffering for the weak, pathetic Humanoid Typhoon. Suicide, basically, but at the orders of Master. Morgaine would never consciously admit it, but she had been half in love with Legato. He had helped her when Master's torture had been too much to bear, had been the one who stitched up her wounds and cleaned away the blood, had made her feel at least a little bit more alive.

Now she was being sent out after Vash, to try and eliminate him. She was certain she was going to die, either at the hands of the Stampede or, after failing, dying at the hands of a Gung-Ho Gun. But she didn't care. Death was a freedom Master would never grant her at the end of her torture sessions. She used to think that if she was a bit more insubordinate, a bit more fiery to the Plant, that he would kill her, but all it caused her was more and more pain. Eventually she had come to believe that her only escape from life would be her mortality. But now, going after the Typhoon, she was almost _happy_ to know that she would be able to die, at last.

The tall twenty-year-old, raven-black-haired, ivory-skinned, onyx-eyed woman exited the compound where her Master lived, and knew where she was going, a bag in her hand. Master had given her all the information she needed to seek out his brother, and she knew he would be stopping at the town of Warren, which wasn't too far away.

Morgaine Blackrain, also known as Morgaine the Fiddler, sped up her pace, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

The faster she got to Vash, the faster she got to Death.  
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---POV switch---

The bartender glanced up at the three sitting in the back of the room, the three that had been there for some time, but he simply shrugged and continued polishing his glass.

"How long are we planning on staying here?" Meryl Strife, the smallest of the three, asked.

"For a while, and then we'll move on," Vash, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon Vash the Stampede, answered.

"No, I mean, how long here, in this bar?" she said.

"Oh, uh, we can go now, if you want," he answered. "Do you want to, Milly?"

The third person in the party, the big girl Milly Thompson, nodded sleepily. "Yes, let's get back to our apartment." They were in Warren, a small town with a comfortable, all-are-welcomed atmosphere. Vash's mind was clearly elsewhere, but both girls could guess _where_; he had been forced to commit the ultimate sin against his personal beliefs, and that was to take another person's life. That person had been a servant of his brother, evil in most considerations, but he had still been a living, breathing, thinking creature, and Vash could still hear his words echoing in his mind, still see that handsome face with one amber-golden eye visible, the other hidden under a wash of silky blue hair. He hurt deeply inside, but for the girls, he pretended to be cheerful.

"Maybe we can pick up donuts on the way back," he said with a smile. Milly laughed, but Meryl watched the blond-haired, aqua-eyed man carefully, sensing a hesitation within him, a feigning of cheer. She smiled blankly when he caught her gaze and glanced her way, and he stared at her a moment, then looked away.

When they reached their apartment, Vash headed nearly immediately to the bed, slipping off his boots and coat, and flopping down on the mattress, hearing the springs creaking under his bodyweight. He stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards the door, making sure it was closed, then he closed his eyes, breathing a heavy, trembling sigh. The pain within him, his chest, his entire body, his mind, his spirit, it was all too much. _There had to have been another way, something I didn't see! _He fought with himself mentally, until his weariness finally allowed him to drift to sleep.

Meryl peeked around the doorframe of the room, checking to make sure Vash was asleep, then stood there, staring at his sleeping form. He could be such a foolish goofball at times, seemingly the stupidest man on Gunsmoke, so gullible it was a surprise he was still living. Then he could be somewhat harsh and cruel, though not to any great extent. And lastly, he was bitter, mournful, in such a sorrowful grief that she could tell it hurt him to fake those smiles, act like a dork, though inwardly ashamed and angry at some action of the past. The woman sighed at the indiscernable man, then turned for her own bed.  
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**You like, my friends? Well, tell me!**

**((Cookiesand Trigun charries are awaiting you!))**

**-Wolf**


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